


remember me for centuries

by RegalPotato



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/F, Ficlets
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2019-04-20 05:01:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14253564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RegalPotato/pseuds/RegalPotato
Summary: A collection of River/Doctor ficlets, oneshots, and prompts.





	1. he had known lasting love

**Author's Note:**

> Based on Zima's tags on tumblr about Twelve's wedding ring falling off after the Doctor regenerates.
> 
> Instead of discarding the now too-big wedding band, Thirteen goes out and gets it resized.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written pre-series 11

The first thing she does once everything is settled - the alien invasion prevented, humanity safe once more, and the TARDIS no longer throwing a fit - is visit a jewelers. 

 

“Uh, what are we doing here?” Graham asks her nervously, eyes darting about searching for any sign of another alien invasion about to take place. 

 

“Something important,” is the Doctor’s only answer. 

 

Her three new companions look at each other quizzically, but nevertheless follow her into the quaint little jewelers shop. The bell above the door chimes softly when they enter, and a short balding man appears almost instantly. 

 

“Hello? Can I help you?” he asks, eyeing the odd foursome warily.

 

The Doctor smiles brightly and bounces up to the counter. 

 

“Yes, please. I need...uh...hold on.”

 

She shoves her hand in the bag strapped around her waist and fumbles for a moment, searching past the bits and bobs she’d shoved in there earlier until her fingers close around the cool feel of metal. 

 

She pulls out the ring, a little grin of triumph on her face, and lays it gently on the counter in front of the jeweler. 

 

“I need this resizing please.”

 

The jeweler picks the ring up carefully, turning it over in his fingers, before fixing the Doctor with a stare. 

 

“Do you have the measurements?”

 

“The...oh, yes. Sorry.”

 

She smiles and holds out her left hand expectantly. Her companions shift awkwardly behind her, no doubt wondering why they’d decided to hang around with an insane alien who travels in time.

 

“Ma’am,” the jeweler says, giving her a long suffering look. “This is a man’s wedding band.”

 

“Yes? And? Can you resize it or not?”

 

Still looking at her like she has three heads, the jeweler nods, taking a moment to measure her ring finger before leaving for the back room.

 

The Doctor grins brightly and twirls to face her three new friends. 

 

“Is it an alien ring?” Ryan asks.

 

“Is it some sort of tech?” Yasmin asks.

 

“Is this going to end badly?” Graham asks with a groan. 

 

The Doctor laughs, and moves to hug them. 

 

“Chill out guys, it’s just my wedding ring. I’m a bit smaller this go round, is all.”

 

They nod, happy with her explanation for a moment, until the confusion appears back on all three of their faces again.

 

“Hold on, smaller?” Ryan asks.

 

“This go around?” Yasmin asks.

 

“You’re married?” Graham asks, and if the Doctor didn’t know better, she’d say her new friend looks ill at the thought. 

 

“Yep, yep, and yep.”

 

All three mouths drop open, each of them no doubt thinking of what question to ask next, when the jeweler appears back at the counter. 

 

“Oh, that was fast,” the Doctor says.

 

She skips back over to him, and holds her hand out for the ring. The jeweler watches her, waiting for the other shoe to drop, but lets the ring drop into her open palm. The Doctor beams, and shoves the ring onto her finger. 

 

“It’s perfect. Thank you!”

 

She spins back to face her companions, freezing when Graham mouths the word ‘money’ at her. Sheepishly, the Doctor turns back to the jeweler and shoves her hand back into the bag at her waist. 

 

“Uh, this should do, yeah?” she says, throwing a handful of purple notes on the counter. 

 

The jeweler’s eyes widen, and Graham groans behind her. 

 

“Come on, Doctor,” Yasmin laughs. “You promised me a supernova!”

 

The Doctor wiggles her fingers at the jeweler in goodbye, but he doesn’t respond, too busy counting through the money she’d given him as payment. The four of them leave the shop and head back to where she’d parked the TARDIS, Ryan and Yasmin excitedly discussing what the best thing to see first would be. 

 

Graham hangs back, falling into step beside her. 

 

“Married, huh?”

 

She smiles softly. 

 

“A long, long time ago.”

 

“I’m sorry,” he replies. 

 

“Don’t be. She was the best thing to ever happen to me.”

 

The Doctor looks down at the wedding band on her finger, the silver glinting in the afternoon sun, and smiles. 

 

“And who knows, perhaps you’ll get to meet her one day.”

 

She shoots him an excited grin and snaps her fingers, bounding off to catch up with Ryan and Yasmin, leaving Graham to wonder just what he’s gotten himself into.


	2. being a woman is different

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor thinks she's dying. River makes everything better, but only after laughing first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This somehow comes from a Time Lord biology discussion with Cassie on tumblr. I don't even know.
> 
> Free reign on Thirteen's personality till we get to see what it actually is. Written pre-series 11.

She’s looking between two inappropriate dresses, deciding which one of them is the more appropriate to wear to Graham’s granddaughter’s piano recital, when there’s a crash from the bathroom. She pauses, waiting to see if she’ll have to rush in and rescue her wife, but when there’s no shout from the Doctor and no urgent buzz in her mind from the TARDIS, River rolls her eyes and resumes her decision making.

 

Graham had practically begged the Doctor to attend his granddaughter’s recital, citing something about family and friendship. The Doctor, being the Doctor, had agreed instantly, only realising later what a piano recital actually entails. Which is why River is currently stood in their bedroom trying to decide on a dress; because if anyone can get the Doctor to sit still for two hours, it’s apparently River Song.

 

River sighs, picking up the black dress that shows far too much cleavage to be appropriate for a children’s recital, and guiltily wishes for her husband. The Doctor is always the same person deep down, but at least in their last regeneration they’d had the patience and the ability to sit still for a long period of time. This regeneration, whilst certainly the prettiest version of her spouse, is a lot more like the first incarnation of her husband, the bowtie wearing idiot that she holds a certain fondness for. She misses the bowtie, her wedding ring, something fierce, but at least the braces are back this go around.

 

“River!” the Doctor shouts from the bathroom, a slight edge of panic to her voice. “River!”

 

River shakes her head and drops the dress back onto the bed. She pushes open the door to the bathroom and freezes at the sight of the Doctor stood entirely naked, paper towel in one hand, terror spread across her face.

 

“River, I think I’m dying!” she whines.

 

“Sweetie, you’re not dying,” River replies, swallowing thickly as she watches a droplet of water run over her wife’s collar bone.

 

“River, I’m _bleeding_.”

 

“Is that what that crash was a moment ago?”

 

“Oh, no, I fell out of the shower...unless, can that cause internal bleeding?!”

 

“Sweetie, calm down.”

 

She takes a step closer to her panicking wife, eyes on her face and not on the dripping wet body further down.

 

“River, look!”

 

She shoves the paper towel towards her, and River realises with a small flash of panic that it is indeed smeared with blood. But a quick check of the Doctor’s body, where River shamelessly lingers on certain curves, reveals no injuries apart from a bruise or two.

 

If the Doctor truly is injured, the TARDIS wouldn’t be humming so happily in the back of River’s mind.

 

“Where exactly are you bleeding from, Doctor?” River asks slowly.

 

“From,” the Doctor’s voice drops into a conspiratorial whisper. “Down there.”

 

There’s a pause, the Doctor’s eyes flicking down to try and emphasise her words, and then River doubles over, full blown laughter causing tears to well up in her eyes.

 

“River? River! Why are you laughing? I’m _dying!_ ”

 

“Darling,” she gasps out, trying to push back the laughter. “You’re not dying.”

 

“But…”

 

“Think about human biology for a moment, Doctor.”

 

The Doctor humphs, insulted, and unnecessarily reminds her that she isn’t human. River rolls her eyes.

 

“Think about human reproduction, you idiot.”

 

The Doctor’s eyes widen slightly, the paper towel falling forgotten to the floor as she surges forwards and grabs River’s biceps with both hands.

 

“I...but... _no._ Do _you_ go through this?” she squeaks.

 

River smiles, shaking her head fondly.

 

“Whilst I was growing up in Leadworth, yes. But the 51st century thankfully fixes this little problem. We’ll pop over there first thing tomorrow morning and get you sorted.” She smirks. “Can’t have you running around saving the universe whilst you think you’re dying from internal bleeding, can we?”

 

She snorts, and the Doctor pouts.

 

“Come here,” River says, arms going around the Doctor’s waist and tugging her closer.

 

Perhaps one of the best things about the Doctor’s new body, River muses, is that she’s smaller now, making it a lot easier to bend down and slant her lips across her wife’s. The Doctor responds instantly, pushing up against her, hands sliding up from River’s arms and into her hair.

 

“Do we have to go out tonight, River,” the Doctor murmurs against her mouth.

 

“You live in a time machine, sweetie,” she purrs. “We won’t miss the recital, as long as you let me drive.”

 

The Doctor protests softly at her insult, but River dips her head to press a gentle kiss against her throat and the protest turns into a groan.

 

“Good,” the Doctor breathes. “Because Graham can’t honestly expect me to sit through that when I’m _dying._ ”

 

River laughs and lifts her head to pull the Doctor back in for another kiss. The piano recital can wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading :)


	3. all the stars we steal from the nightsky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “No matter what happens, where we go, what we do…” he pauses with a sigh, eyes slowly dropping from the starlit sky to stare out at the alien city stretched out below them. “All I can think is how much Grace would have loved it all.”
> 
> A short ficlet where Graham and the Doctor talk about their wives - because Chibby has been blue balling me with the River non-references.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Greatest Showman has been giving me numerous otp feels, and on top of my desperate need for a River reference in Series 11, this happened. But blame Sonic for convincing me to actually post this self indulgent mess. 
> 
> Written just after 11.3 Rosa.

 

 

 

'Cause darling without you, all the shine of a thousand spotlights, all the stars we steal from the nightsky, will never be enough.

 - Never Enough, The Greatest Showman

 

 

* * *

 

She finds him sitting out on the balcony, staring up at the stars with eyes that look far older than they should do, given that Graham is only human. Quietly, the Doctor slips off her coat, and sits herself down next to him, legs sliding through the railings to swing through the air beneath them.

 

“Are you okay?” she ask softly.

 

Graham smiles, but there's no mirth in the twist of his lips, just a sad resignation.

 

“No matter what happens, where we go, what we do…” he pauses with a sigh, eyes slowly dropping from the starlit sky to stare out at the alien city stretched out below them. “All I can think is how much Grace would have loved it all.”

 

Her hearts squeeze painfully in her chest at the reminder that she can never save them all, even the bravest of her humans - _especially_ the bravest. Without thinking, her hand slides across the small gap between them to curl over the top of Graham’s - something that would have never occurred to her in her last incarnation.

 

“I’m so sorry, Graham.”

 

He finally looks at her then, confusion creasing the corners of his eyes. Flipping his hand over, palm up, he curls his fingers with hers.

 

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Doc. It was her choice to help. I wouldn’t have loved her half as much as I did if she wasn’t what made her _her:_ the sort of person who would risk her life for others.”

 

The Doctor swallows, a sudden burning lump of emotion clogging her throat. A few hundred years - and a new body - has somewhat dulled the ever present ache, but sometimes it returns, the wound stinging as freshly as it had on that last fated night on Darillium, as she's reminded of her own sacrificing wife.

 

“I understand,” is all she says, squeezing his hand.

 

“Ever been married, Doc?” he asks, and the Doctor can tell - from the tears threatening to fall from the corners of his eyes and the way his words sound a little too strained - that Graham wants to shift the conversation away from himself and Grace.

 

Surprisingly, she finds herself laughing in lieu of a reply.

 

“Oh, many times. I’ve lost count. Did you know I’m technically married to Queen Elizabeth the First?”

 

A short laugh escapes him, and despite the disbelief curling around Graham’s lips, she knows that deep down he believes everything she says. That sort of trust has been the Doctor’s downfall on far too many occasions, but with Graham - safe, sensible Graham - she doesn’t feel the familiar sense of panic rising within her. He reminds her of Rory, in a way, no real thirst for the running, just a love for a woman who would much rather be amongst the stars.

 

“But there were only two that mattered,” she continues, her eyes sliding up to stare at the inky black that had enraptured Graham only minutes ago. “My first wife died a long, _long_ time ago. I was so young, and she was so wonderful. We had a family, a life. But I lost them. I think that was part of the reason I ran, why I started travelling. I needed to escape it all.”

 

This time it’s Graham who squeezes her hand.

 

“And your second wife?” he presses gently. With anyone else, it would feel too much like prying, but with Graham - she knows - it’s more of a camaraderie, a desire to help, two widowers grieving together.

 

“River,” she breathes, barely a whisper on the night breeze.

 

A silence stretches out between them, tears clinging to the Doctor’s lashes, a soft smile curling on her lips. Graham doesn’t break the moment, just turns his head to stare back up at the stars, fingers still twisted around her own.

 

“Her name was River Song,” the Doctor eventually continues. “She was...she was everything. Beautiful, smart, dangerous. A notorious criminal that could kill you without blinking, and yet, she was an infinitely better person than me.”

 

The pain in her hearts is agony now, a tightness that threatens to tear the breath from her lungs. It feels like so long ago - too long, longer than River deserves - since she last talked about her wife, the icy wind from the Thames whipping around a grumpier, more Scottish body, the brilliant Bill Potts stood by her - his - side.

 

“There are days,” Graham says gently, perhaps noticing the emotions playing across the Doctor’s face, “when I don’t think of her at all. Which makes the days I can’t stop thinking about her even worse. Because I feel like I owe her more than forgetting to be heartbroken.”

 

A laugh that sounds far too much like a sob tears itself from the Doctor’s throat.

 

“Yeah,” she agrees shakily. “Can you imagine what they'd say if they could see us now?”

 

“Well, not sure ‘bout your River, but Grace would kick my arse for moping around up here when there's an alien city down there.”

 

The Doctor jumps to her feet at that, hand still clasped with Graham's, tugging him up with her.

 

“You're right. River would be very disappointed that I hadn't already caused absolute _mayhem_. And we can't be having that now, can we?”

 

Graham smiles, a bright spark of mischief sparkling in his eyes that almost seems out of place with his usual cautious nature. But the Doctor knows, anyone who could love someone as wild as Grace must have a wildness of their own residing inside them.

 

“I'm going to regret this, ain't I, Doc?”

 

“Oh, I hope so, Graham!”

 

She moves to leave, but Graham remains where he's stood, her hold on his hand tugging her back to the railing.

 

“Thanks, Doc.”

 

“For what?”

 

“For dragging an old man along with you, letting me see the stars she dreamed of.”

 

She smiles, all teeth and mirth, and pulls Graham into an awkward one-armed hug, too used to being taller than her friends to really make the embrace work.

 

“I'll let you in on a secret, Graham,” she whispers against his ear. “I've been an old man far longer than you. So, it's my pleasure.”

 

The Doctor pulls away, cheeky grin in place, and finally slips her hand from his. With a wink, Graham's confused squint already bolstering her spirits, she bounds over to the door that leads into the hotel.

 

“Come on then, we have to go make our wives proud.”

 

With one final glance at the nightsky, Graham turns back to her, his own grin in place, and nods.

 

“Right you are, Doc. Right you are.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading :)


End file.
